Monkey Business
by Lampito
Summary: Knowledge equals power. When an occult epidemic strikes, it's up to the guy working behind the scenes, the one who knows where to find the lore and look for the answers, to take the lead. Do I detect a whiff of crossover? OMG Ch 3 We has a fanart nao!
1. Monkey Business

I know, I know, I'm supposed to be working on 'In Dog We Trust', but this little plot bunny just hopped right into the meeting I'm trapped in - I hope nobody else saw it - and boinged up onto my lap. So I thought I'd better expunge it...

**DiSCLAIMER: **Not mine, any of 'em - if they were, I'd hire them out by the hour.

**TITLE:** Monkey Business.

**RATING:** K. Really. I, er, excrement you not.

**SUMMARY:** Knowledge equals power. When the an occult epidemic strikes, it's up to the guy working behind the scenes, the ones who know where to find the lore, to take the lead.

**BLAME:** For the Denizens who love them a bit of crossover.

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><p>He was in his element, having done this a thousand times before, but he never dropped his guard for a moment, because even for an adept of long practice, it was a dangerous place to be, and in this job, mistakes could get you killed. Or worse.<p>

He was looking for something. Hunting. He just had to find it. The regular authorities wouldn't possibly understand, and if they did, they would pretend they didn't. That's what he and his kind were for, dealing with the things that the authorities couldn't. And if the did understand, they wouldn't want to...

He moved silently, something that might look, to the casual observer, impossible due to his size, but he managed it effortlessly. A useful capacity, when a job – and your life – might depend on it.

He listened carefully; the strangely still air carried few clues as to which way was _where_, but he'd done this before. There it was, the merest stirring of the dust motes, the tiniest of disturbances that untrained ears would never have detected. He moved closer, arriving at a shelf of large, dusty, and decidedly unwelcoming-looking books.

Then he heard it.

"Not that one, ya idjit!"

He pushed aside a heavy tome – it snarled at him, but he bared his teeth back, never showing fear or hesitation, because they could smell it – and pulled himself through...

**...oooooOOOOOooooo... ...oooooOOOOOooooo... ...oooooOOOOOooooo... **

"It might look as occult as hell, but it's actually great-Grandma Singer's cookery journal," Bobby went on, burrowing further into one of the innumerable pile of books, "The other blue one, with the orobus on the fly sheet..."

He stopped, and straightened up as he heard the bickering behind him come to a ragged halt.

"Um," said Sam.

"Wsfgl?" said Dean.

"Ah, good to see you again," smiled Bobby, as the large orange-haired primate hauled himself out from between the books and dropped heavily to the floor, "How's your dragon problem?"

"Ook," the creature assured him. "Ook ook."

"Damned good thing, too," the old Hunter shook his head.

The animal knuckled over to Dean, and knocked gently on his sternum. "Ook?"

"Oh, don't mind them," Bobby waved a hand dismissively at the Winchesters, "They're just here lookin' for information. It's what libraries are for, right?"

"Ook," went the Librarian doubtfully. He was of the old school, that suggested that students should love books, and revere and worship them, but that didn't mean you had to let the grubby individuals actually _read_ them...

"Bobby," Dean began slowly, "Bobby, do you often have a monkey climb out of your bookshelves?"

"Oh, dear," muttered Bobby.

"Eeeeeeek!" screeched the Librarian. Before he could begin his customary ritual of education, which usually involved leaping onto someone's shoulders and trying to twist their head off, Sam sniped at his brother disdainfully.

"Dean, he's not a monkey!" he snapped, "Orangs are apes! The difference is huge! Taxonomically they both belong to the Suborder _Haplorrhini_, but they diverge in anatomy, demographics, locomotion, brain structure..."

"Ook," smiled the Librarian, reaching up to pat Sam on the head. He offered the younger Winchester a banana from the bag slung over one shoulder.

"Boys," Bobby cut in, "This is the Librarian, another fellow traveller on the road of knowledge, with a keen interest in the occult, and protection of his city against the Dungeon Dimensions, and assorted other unpleasantnesses. Fuglies not givin' you too much grief, I hope?" he added politely.

"Ook. Ook ook ook," the Librarian replied, managing to indicate that it was business as usual for an overworked and underappreciated academic. Bobby nodded in understanding.

"So, what's he doing here?" asked Dean warily, as Sam peeled the banana and bit into it.

"What do you think a Librarian is doing here?" Bobby rolled his eyes, "He's looking for a book! So, which one are you after?"

"Ook ook ook ook eeek ook," explained the Librarian.

"You have gargoyles where you come from?" asked Sam.

"You understood that?" Dean's eyes bugged.

"Yeah, didn't you?" Sam queried. He looked at the fruit he was eating. "Maybe it's in the banana," he postulated, "You want some?"

"It's some herbivorous geek Esperanto," muttered Dean.

"Actually, I do have a book that might be useful," Bobby nodded, moving a chair to stand on it, "Although I gotta tell ya, I wasn't inclined to believe that gargoyles can actually catch colds. How many of them have it?"

"Ook ook ook ooook ook," the Librarian elaborated.

"Hmmmm. Well, quarantine is probably no use, by now. Not that they move around much, anyway." Bobby pulled a book down from the shelf, and handed it to the orang-utan, who took it carefully. "Oh, if you'd be so kind, you could deliver a couple of things for me," he went on, fetching two envelopes from the desk. "This one is for Mustrum, I think he'll have more luck with the Obstreperous Salmon if he tries these flies."

"Who's Mustrum?" asked Sam, finishing his banana.

"Another grumpy old man who has to deal with more idjits than is good for him," replied Bobby.

Sam glanced at the envelopes as the Librarian took them. The other was addressed to **SGT ****A.****von ****Uberwald, ****City****Watch,** in what he recognised as Ronnie Shepherd's careful cursive. He cocked an eyebrow at Bobby.

"Penpals," the older man shrugged, "And professional wimmen networkin'. This is the Century of the Anchovy, after all." Bobby turned back to the Librarian. "I don't suppose you want to stay for a banana daiquiri, if you got an epidemic of sick gargoyles to deal with?" he sighed. The Librarian shook his head regretfully. "That's a pity. It's just not fair, is it, we never seem to have time to just put work on hold for a moment, and just have a conversation..."

The Librarian patted him sympathetically on the shoulder. It was ever thus for the wise men who kept things running in the background.

"He's from... another dimension?" breathed Sam incredulously. "This is amazing! Where are you from, Mr Librarian? How did you get here? Can we go with you?"

"OOK!" said the Librarian firmly.

"Absolutely not!" declared Bobby equally firmly. "L-Space is no place for an amateur. The grimoires would eat you for breakfast."

"Books," Sam mused, "It's the books, isn't it? They do... something. All that knowledge. Knowledge equals power. It does... _something_..."

"Ook ook," smiled the Librarian approvingly, managing to convey the sentiment that the boy showed promise, and if Bobby wanted to apprentice him, the Librarian could always use another assistant, what with the current one being so geographically unpredictable, and he had such long arms and legs he could almost be an honorary orang-utan.

"Nah," grinned Bobby, "The boy has a job to do here. Besides which, these two come as a matched pair. You'd have to take him, too."

The Librarian looked Dean up and down, and changed his mind. The ignorant one had 'Watch Material' written all over him, and the Librarian was familiar with the sort of mayhem that usually followed any time the Law set foot in his library.

"Take care," Bobby waved as the smiling ape pushed aside a large book, and climbed back through with a wave and a cheerful parting "Ook!"

"Wow," sighed Sam, as the primate disappeared through the shelves, "Just... wow."

"I gotta lay off the tequila," muttered Dean. "I'm hallucinating. Seriously, I just thought I saw monkey climb out of your book shelves, Bobby, and..."

A long, hairy red arm emerged from between the tomes, and slapped Dean upside the head.

Then he slipped over on Sam's banana peel. And Bobby called him 'idjit'.

All in all, it just served to remind Dean why he hated libraries and the primates who ran them.

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><p>Reviews ook ook Ook Ook Ook of Ook!<p> 


	2. Some explanatory notes from The Author

**Monkey Business – some explanatory notes from The Author for those who do not recognise the crossover...**

For anyone who doesn't recognise The Librarian – shame on you! He's a major and much loved character from Terry Pratchett's Discworld. If you haven't gone and read his books yet, begin forthwith, if not sooner.

Why are you still reading this? GO AND READ SOME PRATCHETT!

Srsly. He's the man who postulated the concept of the Trousers of Time. And worked out that it's all probably because of quantum.

My writing is not that funny. Terry Pratchett's writing is funny. He makes my stuff look like a particularly boring lecture on the manufacture of reverse-suction syringe-driven stomach pumps in Hungary in the 14th century delivered by a professor who's actually been dead for the last three semesters, but PowerPoint is on auto-pilot so nobody's noticed...

You still here? All right. Here's a quick primer.

The Discworld is a flat world that travels through space on the back of four giant elephants, which stand on the shell of a giant space turtle, Great A'tuin. Discworld runs on the laws of magic the way that our own home, Roundworld, runs on the laws of physics. They have humans, trolls, dwarves, Music With Rocks In, Dungeon Dimensions occupied by ghastly things man ought not wot of, dragons, witches, tabloid newspapers and bissonomy.

The keepers of much of the lore governing this are the Faculty of Unseen University, located in the city of Ankh-Morpork. It is the Disc's premier university for the education wizards. The current Archchancellor is Mustrum Ridcully, a huntin' shootin' fishin' man who has the same approach to administrative duties that a bulldozer in a hurry has to a pile of gravel – just shove it all to one side, and leave someone else to deal with it.

The Librarian is the custodian of the books of the University, some of which are every bit as dangerous as what you will find in the library at Casa Singer. If you read them, they tend to read you at the same time. They should only be handled by Persons of Knowledge, who know exactly what they're doing. The Librarian was turned into an orang-utan (an animal native to Bhang Bhang Duc) in a magical accident many years ago, and has stubbornly resisted all attempts to turn him back, since his new brain allows him to operate free of so much of the angst that plagues humans, and his 300-pound body makes it so much easier to twist the head of any ignoramus who calls him a monkey.

L-space is that space between the books, _all _the books, in all dimensions, where the sheer volume of information bends mundane properties like the time-space-reality continuum. Highly qualified librarians have this knowledge passed on to them, but even the best ones can come to grief in there. L-space is dangerous, and not to be entered lightly. After all, according to Sir Terry, a good bookshop is just a genteel black hole that knows how to read.

Sergeant Angua von Uberwald is a member of the City Watch, considered the Disc's best police force. She is a werewolf who has left her home country to escape her family, and has battled to best the nastier side of her nature, or at least find a job where she can use it to her advantage. She also found, ahem, romantic entanglement in the least likely place, with a six-foot-six dwarf (by adoption), Carrot Ironfoundersson. It's no surprise that she and Ronnie Shepherd (Roundworld's Crankiest Werewolf) are penpals. I've never really thought about it before, but they have a lot in common. Presumably they swap letters, complaining about the thankless nature of their work, the cluelessness their menfolk can sometimes display, and the difficulty of finding a flea shampoo that doesn't leave your coat feeling dried out.

Sir Terry was diagnosed in 2007 with an early onset form of Alzheimer's disease. I take this as the closest thing there is to proof that EITHER there is no God, OR the bastard is a malevolent mongrel and we should not be messing about worshipping it, we should be looking for a way to hunt it down and kill it.

Do you realise that while you've been reading this, you could've read at least the first two pages of 'The Colour Of Magic'? It's his first book. I think he _really_ hits his stride as what we would consider 'Hysterically Funny Classic Pratchett' once he gets to 'Wyrd Sisters', but all his stuff is good.

So, what are you waiting for?


	3. YAY FOR FANART!

OMGWTFBBQ FANART!

If you haven't done so already at my behest at the end of Chapter 12 of 'In Dog We Trust', then stop what you are doing RIGHT THIS MINUTE and go look at the picture by Bartlebead (did you know, she's descended from the kindly old teacher whose ghost spanked Dean in 'Can You Dig It?' during a Latin lesson? Absolutely true!). It depicts the Librarian, and one who would've made a great Librarian, enjoying a laugh at Dean's ignorance over a banana.

http **COLONSLASHSLASH** rince1wind**DOT** livejournal**DOT** com

It's the entry for 21 November.

OOK!


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